Queen America
by KlaStrick
Summary: America has finally become Queen of Illéa, alongside her husband, Maxon, King of Illéa. America works alongside her husband to find a way to create a new Illéa, one that everyone would love. Could she become the most loved queen?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- Regal

As she walked down the aisle, Maxon felt a feeling in his stomach that he was sure she'd once described as butterflies. If that were the case, this is exactly how he would imagine dozens of winged beauties fluttering inside his stomach. She was absolute grace walking beside her former love, now palace guard. Maxon should feel pain seeing them together, but Aspen was the reason his darling America was alive- the reason he was alive himself.

She walked with an element of grace, but Maxon knew that she was probably working so hard to keep her breakfast down. She wasn't fond of a crowd focusing on her, but he knew that she would get used to that. Maxon wished that he had one of his cameras with him, but he knew that no picture could capture this moment purely as it is. She seemed to be glowing, despite the fact that Maxon could tell that she was nervous. As all eyes of Illéa were on her right now, whether by being in the room or through their living rooms. Everyone was watching her, and she knew it.

America hadn't seen Maxon yet; he could tell by her searching eyes. Her arm gripped Aspen as though he were helping her balance, despite him having to support himself with a cane- a reminder of his heroic actions during the latest Southern rebel palace infiltration. Maxon's eyes floated to America's dress. He made a quick mental note to tell Mary his fondness of her dress. She had really outdone herself, as if America's maids had been designing her wedding dress since the beginning of the Selection. Maxon smiled, knowing that they probably _had_ planned the dress since meeting America. Most of the staff in the palace was rooting for America to win the Selection since word about her treatment of her maids got around, and was officially the staff favorite when she ran to try to stop Marlee's caning. America's genuine, kind spirit was known by those around her before it was truly known to Maxon himself. She made him crazy sometimes, but he knew that he wanted to live in her crazy world until his last breath, which was almost sooner than he expected.

Maxon drew in a breath, but stopped mid-breath as her eyes finally met his. The butterflies in his stomach and decided to completely turn his insides into giant knots. It seemed as if the world around them completely faded, leaving just America and him as the only ones left in the world. A smile crept on America's face just as a hint of pink caressed her cheeks.

Aspen limped forward the final steps, finally bringing is fiancée to him. At this moment, Maxon owed Aspen more than he could repay. He owed him for his life, but more importantly, he owed him for America's life. Maxon gave Aspen a nod that spoke thousands of words between them before turning to his bride. Her eyes had never left him since she spotted him halfway down the aisle. Carefully, Maxon walked America to the priest that would perform the ceremony to bond them forever. It was a step that he knew he was ready for, and at last, a step that he knew America was ready for.

The priest began the ceremony, and Maxon felt a shaking on his arm. He noticed that his darling was shaking. A smile spread on Maxon's face.

"Why are you shaking, my dear?" he whispered to her.

America's eyes flittered away just for a second.

"There's a lot of people here," she replied in a soft whisper herself.

Maxon smiled and squeezed America's hand that rested on his arm.

"It's a bit too late to back out I'm afraid."

"I would never," she said almost breathlessly. " I want this more than I've ever wanted anything else."

Maxon dipped his head down, happy to hear those words.

At long last, the priest ended the ceremony, which meant it was time for Maxon to kiss his darling America, not as a member of the Selection, not as his fiancée, but as his wife. He leaned in and inhaled her scent as their lips met. The kiss was soft, but held so much meaning behind it. He felt her spine straighten as they parted. He knew that the next part was the hardest part for her. She will not be a princess like first anticipated, but she will become queen of Illéa.

The priest moved aside and the magistrate moved in to begin the ceremony. Since Maxon had been coronated immediately after his father's death, Maxon took a seat on the throne beside what would become America's. She stood in front of him and curtsied deeply. As she rose, a new persona took over her- one Maxon had never really seen clearly until now. She reminded him of his mother at that moment. Her stiff back, her soft appearance- she looked regal.

During the ceremony, America's eyes never left Maxon's. As she moved to the throne, he saw that she seemed to be holding her breath. As she sat beside him, she softly exhaled a breath that Maxon was sure she had been holding for a while. She gave him a small smile.

At long last, the magistrate's voice bellowed through the hall.

"I present to you King Maxon and Queen America. Long live the King and Queen!"

The hall echoed, "Long live the King and Queen!"


	2. Chapter 2- Rings

Chapter 2-

"No, let's stay in all day! They can live for one whole day without their king and queen!"

America glowed in the sunlight, her red hair giving the illusion that it was actually on fire. He lay, staring at her, his eyes mesmerized by her soft skin that was barely covered by the green nightgown. He raised a hand and stroked her hair. He could never remember being this happy in his life.

"We must get out of bed soon, my darling. I'm sure that it is almost noon."

"There you go with that 'my darling' mess again," she giggled as she rolled over onto her back. "Besides, we're on our honeymoon anyway."

"Very true, my dear," he said with a playful tickle of her shoulder. "But I will say that missing breakfast has left me rather in need for sustenance."

America sprang up onto her elbows. "That's why they have room service, _your majesty._"

Maxon chuckled.

"Well, _your majesty_, what will the help think of walking in with me draped in the bed clothes covering every part of me and you in nothing but your nightgown at this time of day?"

"That we're newlyweds- like we're doing what we should be doing."

Maxon stretched out on his back and America moved to lie on his chest. Her warm skin touched his, and thoughts of their wedding night came back to him. It had been a mere fifteen hours since they were married and officially crowned king and queen. They were lucky to be able to escape to a palace on the shores of the Asian Ocean. America had been ecstatic seeing the waves, as she had never seen this side of the country, including the massive ocean that was mere yards away from them. Maxon was excited to show America the country.

Maxon smiled as he ran a hand on America's back. This was a nice break from his usual hectic life. He never planned on becoming king and a husband within the same month, but because of the Southern rebel palace infiltration, the lives of his mother and father had been lost, leaving him to run the country. Thankfully, the attack that killed his parents also made him realize what he was about to lose. During the attack, he almost lost not only his life, but America as well.

"So, should we call for our meals to be brought to us?" he asked.

America giggled.

"Of course," she sighed, getting up. "I'm sure the meals have been ready for us, just waiting on our word."

"Naturally," replied Maxon.

At that moment, a knock on the door sounded.

"Enter," said Maxon.

A butler entered the room with a letter in hand.

"Your majesty," he said with a bow as he handed Maxon the letter and exited the room.

"America, my dear?" he asked.

America stuck her head out from the bathroom.

"This letter is address to the both of us."

America came back into the room and took the letter from Maxon's hands.

"Who could it be from?" she asked.

"There's only one way to find out."

America opened the letter and two rings fell out. Maxon picked them up and immediately recognized them as his parents' wedding rings. Maxon's heart sank. When they were killed, his parents' bodies had been stripped of any jewels or anything of value, including their wedding rings. America's eyes met Maxon's.

"Read the letter," he said.

"_To the newlywed King and Queen of Illéa,_

_We congratulate you on your marriage and present you with something we are sure would be of more sentimental value than of fiscal value. The wedding rings of King Clarkson and Queen Amberly are returned to you with hopes that their love eternalizes within you._

_We wish to speak with the both of you as soon as you return to the palace. There have been new developments that we cannot put in letters. We will contact you again to arrange this. We hope that we may begin making changes for the better._

_Sincerely,_

_G"_

America exhaled slowly, trying to make sense of the situation as Maxon held his mother's ring between his thumb and index finger.

"But it was a southern rebel attack that killed your parents, was it not?" asked America.

Maxon nodded, unable to speak. How had George gotten his parents' wedding rings? Was he tied in with the southern rebels and only worked with Maxon in order to get into the palace more easily?

"America?" he asked, barely above a whisper, all he could muster. "How do you think he got these?"

America pulled in another breath and sat beside her husband, holding his bicep gently in her hand as a gesture of comfort.

"Maybe they made a trade?" she suggested.

A trade would make sense, but that meant that they knew who the southern rebels were and that they were in communication with them. Maxon was questioning his trust of George.

"That would have to mean that they're contacting them."

"We can only hope for the best, Maxon."

"You're right."


End file.
